


Dancing with Wings

by Katrina_Viv



Series: Aziraphale/Crowley Chronicles [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Angel Wings, Aromantic Aziraphale, Aromantic Crowley, Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Dancing, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Queerplatonic Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Sharing a Bed, Tea, Wine, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 06:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19762078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katrina_Viv/pseuds/Katrina_Viv
Summary: When Aziraphale's wings materialize for the first time in a long while, Crowley is frustrated that his own wings won't appear easily.





	Dancing with Wings

Aziraphale awoke alone, in his own bed. Even though snuggling with Crowley was always nice, the angel was a creature of habit, and for many, many years he had slept alone. Ethereal beings didn’t  _ need  _ to sleep, but after being around for a few thousand years, being awake all the time isn’t all that interesting anymore. As was his habit, Aziraphale had stayed up rather late reading a book (this time, Shakespeare’s sonnets), fallen asleep for a few dreamless hours, and then awakened with the sunrise. 

He took advantage of his solitude to stretch out his arms and legs across the entirety of the small bed for a few minutes, then got up, prepared the teakettle, and got dressed while he waited for the water to boil. Once the kettle was whistling, he prepared a cup of English Breakfast tea, let it steep for a few minutes, then sipped it slowly as he wandered around the bookshop, contemplating what he would most like to do today. He had been spending so much time with Crowley lately that the shop was beginning to look rather neglected. Everything could use a good dusting, and some of the shelves could be straightened up or rearranged a bit to look just  _ perfect _ . 

Crowley had agreed to leave Aziraphale alone today until about 6 PM, when they would meet at the bookshop and do whatever they felt like doing for the rest of the evening. Aziraphale had no specific plans for Crowley’s visit, besides perhaps tasting some recently acquired varieties of tea. 

The past few months had just been so  _ busy _ . Aziraphale and Crowley had been nearly inseparable. After the terrifying events of almost-Armageddon, they had found themselves compelled to spend as much time with each other as possible. Their days had been filled with long discussions, food and drink, drives in the Bentley, picnics, walks in the park, and listening to music, while they had spent almost every night snuggling in bed together.

The change in their relationship had been sudden, but it was so freeing to admit how much they loved each other after fighting on opposite sides for so many years. Still, such a whirlwind of activity could be tiring, especially for an introverted angel.

Aziraphale felt rather sorry for Crowley. While the angel still had his bookshop, the demon didn’t seem to have much to do these days. Luckily, Crowley understood that Aziraphale had his own preferred hobbies, and had agreed to leave him be for the day.  _ He’s probably going to go speeding around London without me there to yell at him _ , thought Aziraphale.  _ And that’s fine. As long as he stays safe. _

…

Meanwhile, Crowley was keeping himself busy in Aziraphale’s absence. He slept later than usual, reorganized his CD collection, cared for his plants, napped for an hour in the afternoon, and shopped online for stylish, expensive clothes. No one was ordering him to go around tempting people anymore, and now that he was spending so much time with Aziraphale, he didn’t feel like doing anything that clearly went against the angel’s principles. 

Crowley noticed that his wine collection was becoming rather depleted, so he drove to his usual grocery store to get some more. Five dozen bottles sounded about right; mostly reds, though he chose a few varieties of sparkling wine that Aziraphale would probably like.

“Having a party this weekend?” asked the cashier.

“Yes! My nephew is graduating from university.” Being a demon, Crowley could effortlessly tell lies without seeming suspicious.

Though he had ignored the speed limit on the way to the store, he drove more slowly on the way back, as the wine bottles clinked against one another in the back of the car.

There was still time to organize his wine collection and listen to some rock music before going to visit Aziraphale.

...

Aziraphale dusted all the shelves in the bookshop, then polished the various tables throughout the shop and his tiny apartment above. He then examined each shelf carefully, making sure that the books were balanced properly. Finally, he dusted the windows and swept the floor - and now it was time for some more reading.

...

Crowley arrived at five minutes before 6:00, just as Aziraphale had predicted. Aziraphale hurried to meet his friend at the door. “Hello Crowley! Would you like some tea?” he asked.

“Would  _ you  _ like some prosecco?” Crowley replied, pulling a wine bottle out of his classy black leather messenger bag.

“Yes!” Aziraphale said, reaching for the wine. “This feels more like a wine evening than a tea evening anyway.”

After making sure the shop door was locked and the CLOSED sign was clearly in place, Aziraphale led Crowley to a room in which they had spent many previous evenings discussing various matters over a glass of wine. The angel went to find some wine glasses, then returned to the sitting room and poured each of them a glass of prosecco.

Aziraphale then settled into his favorite chair, an antique wingback upholstered in deep blue velvet. (It was just a coincidence that his favorite style of chair - wingback - also described an angel’s anatomy quite well.) Crowley had taken a nearby chair that looked slightly more modern, and slightly more teal.

The two began with some small talk, letting each other know how they had spent their day. Crowley listed off all the wines he had bought earlier, and Aziraphale showed Crowley some interesting books he had found while straightening the shelves. After that, they both fell silent.

“What do we talk about now?” asked Crowley after a few minutes of silence, reaching out to gently interlace his fingers with Aziraphale’s. 

“I don’t actually know. I’m quite used to silence around here.”

“We could be silent together, then.”

Aziraphale smiled. “We can try that.”

After a few more minutes, Crowley pulled his chair closer to Aziraphale’s, now taking the angel’s hand into both of his own. The demon began to trace his fingers over every part of Aziraphale's hand -- every finger, every joint, every line on his palm. This was a new, but pleasant, sensation to Aziraphale. Without saying anything, he looked Crowley in the eye, smiled his approval, then closed his eyes to focus more intently on Crowley’s touch. 

"I just adore every inch of you,” said Crowley softly, as he continued to examine and gently massage Aziraphale’s hand, while the angel reclined contentedly against the back of his chair. On a whim, Crowley kissed the back of Aziraphale’s hand. Somehow that seemed much more sensible and adoring than kissing on the mouth could ever be.

Crowley suddenly heard a soft  _ woosh  _ and a small flapping sound similar to that of a flag on a windy day. His eyes widened as he saw that Aziraphale's wings had appeared. The majestic feathered appendages looked solid enough to touch, though they were still ethereal enough to have gone through Aziraphale's clothes without tearing anything.

Aziraphale didn't seem to have noticed anything different yet.

"Angel!" whispered Crowley. "Your wings!"

Aziraphale opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder. "Why, there they are!" he said with a surprised smile. 

Crowley was still shocked. Angels rarely, if ever, let their wings show in the modern day. The only reason they could have appeared was if Aziraphale had let his guard down much more than usual.

"I'm honored to see them again," said Crowley. He had never gotten such a good look at an angel’s wings before.

Aziraphale's wings flapped a bit, like a bird unsure if it wants to start flying. "These haven't been out in  _ centuries _ ," he said with a hint of admiration. "Not on the earthly plane, at least. I wasn't even thinking about it - they just popped out without me realizing...I think the last time anyone saw my wings was before we met Shakespeare!”

"But why  _ now _ ?" asked Crowley.

"I suppose because this is the most relaxed I've felt in a  _ very _ long time," said Aziraphale, still admiring his wings over his shoulder. "Congratulations, Crowley - you got my wings to come out of hiding. Now then - I'm sure yours could use a stretch too!"

"I'll see if I can coax them out," said the demon, who also hadn't seen his wings in ages. He looked over his own shoulder as if to make sure that they weren’t actually out yet. 

"Oh Crowley, I have a delightful idea!" exclaimed the angel. "Could we snuggle with our wings out tonight? That would be so soft and beautiful."

Crowley smiled wide. Aziraphale rarely took the initiative regarding physical contact, though he clearly enjoyed it. He must be especially excited for their time together tonight if he was bringing this up already.

"I'd love to, angel," said Crowley, reaching out to brush his fingertips along the edge of one of the angel's snow-white wings. It finally hit him just how much Aziraphale must love and trust him, for his wings to have appeared spontaneously like that.  _ I don’t deserve him, _ Crowley though,  _ but I’m still so glad I have him. _

“Now, how do we get your wings to appear? Do you just need to be more...at ease?” asked Aziraphale, reaching out to stroke the demon’s luscious red hair. Crowley leaned into the angel’s caress. Aziraphale then gently brushed his fingers down the back of the demon’s neck and along his shoulder blades, where his wings attached, causing Crowley to pleasantly shiver.

“I don’t even know,” murmured Crowley, as Aziraphale continued to gently glide his fingers over Crowley’s shoulders and back. Demons showed their wings much less often than angels did. Angels were allowed to show their wings at various times in the past when they were proclaiming messages from God, whereas demons had more of a need to blend in with the human world.

Crowley racked his brain for any knowledge or memories he had regarding his own wings. He couldn’t even remember how long they had been dormant. They had been out when he had first met Aziraphale on the edge of Eden...but had they ever been out since then? Could his wings even wake up at all after thousands of years? The angel’s hand on his back was helping him picture just where the wings should spring from, but he couldn’t come up with anything more tangible than that. Perhaps he was just too worldly now.

Crowley suddenly stood up, surprising Aziraphale. “This isn’t working,” he said. “I...I’m just going to go sit by myself for a bit and see if I can figure out what’s going on.”

Crowley went into Aziraphale’s bedroom and sat on the bed. Maybe if he tried to trick his mind into making the wings appear...oh yes, this was the kind of thing that humans called meditation. Crowley usually thought such things were silly and pointless, but something was telling him that this might be a path to success.

Crowley adjusted his posture, sitting cross-legged with his back straight and his hands on his knees. He took some deep breaths while trying to clear out his mind. He wasn’t able to clear out all the thoughts, so he decided to focus on wing-related thoughts.  _ You’re completely safe here, _ he told his wings. _ Only Aziraphale will see you. No one can hurt you here. Please come out? Fly! Flap! Soar! Please? _ He opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder to check. Still no wings. Okay, time for a few more deep breaths. He tried to remember how his wings felt, back when he was allowed to display them in all their glory. This was so difficult -- how had Aziraphale’s wings come out without him even thinking about it? Crowley then concentrated on imagining Aziraphale’s gorgeous wings on his own back. Suddenly, with a soft  _ woosh _ , his own majestic black wings appeared. There was no mistaking the feeling of wings attached to one’s back, but he still checked over his shoulder once more to be sure, then reached out to feel how real they were. 

“Angel!” he called out, his voice cracking a bit from emotion. 

Aziraphale appeared in the doorway. “Oh, Crowley!” he said, with a proud smile. “You did it!” He rushed forward to embrace his friend.

Crowley’s wings spent a few minutes stretching out their stiffness from being in disuse for so long, but eventually, they gracefully settled into their usual shape.

“What now?” asked Crowley, still somewhat in shock that both of their wings had decided to appear. 

“Well, I had an idea…” said Aziraphale. “Do you want to try dancing? I know we don’t have a lot of room here, but I’ve got my record player, and I thought that maybe we could try  _ waltzing _ ! It seems easy enough, but I’ve never actually done it with a partner.”

“I would love to!” exclaimed Crowley. “But first, more wine.”

After another two glasses of wine each, the two friends were a bit wobbly as they fumbled through the waltz steps, but they had a grand time trying. And somehow, dancing with visible wings made it seem all the more elegant and fun.

...

Later that night, Aziraphale and Crowley lay facing one another, with their wings enveloping one another. The angel had been right - it  _ was _ a soft and beautiful experience for them to lie there surrounded by both sets of wings. It was like snuggling under the softest blanket possible. They barely said a word to one another as they fell asleep -- their smiles said everything.


End file.
